


More Than Cake

by JediMordsith



Series: Sweet On You [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: Luke makes an emergency call for backup, and Mara can't help but answer. She tries to tell him it's just about the cake... but this time he's not letting her off the hook with that excuse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set one year post It's Just Cake. 
> 
> This could probably use eight more rounds of edits, but I'm going for the "don't let perfect be the enemy of good" approach. Also, this is my first time posting smut for public consumption - concrit welcome. (Help me improve before I get to it in places where it *matters* like Gift!)

“You pulled me out of a multimillion credit trade negotiation for _cake_?”

“Please, Mara, I need you. Han and the kids just got back from Ryloth and they and the _Falcon_ have been quarantined for an entire week. Winter is due to have her baby any minute, and confined to bed rest. Leia couldn't help me even if she wasn't trying to run the entire Commemoration Week by herself, and there's no way I can do this T'iil Seed Cake Workshop alone.”

Mara dug her fingertips into her closed eyelids, trying to massage away the headache steadily building in the center of her skull.

“Skywalker, you know I can't. The Alderaanian survivors _hate_ me. If they found out I was the one who taught you to make T'iil cakes, the fallout would be positively _grisly_.”

“Well, you can't come as yourself, of course, but you've always got at least one disguise handy.”

Mara glared at the one-quarter-size holo of the Jedi Master hovering before her.

“Well you _do_ ,” he maintained, stubbornly. “ _Please_ , Mara.”

Mara sighed. To be fair, her Farmboy _was_ in a quandary. The Alderaanian community had almost completely funded the restoration of the professional-grade kitchen at the partially rebuilt Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Their 'generosity' had been driven primarily by the understanding that the newly renovated space would host an interactive educational workshop on how to make the beloved, traditional seed cakes that had been all but lost until Princess Leia Organa Solo's husband, brother, and children near-miraculously produced flawless renditions just in time for last year's Remembrance Week.

Han had been slated to lead the promised workshop, which Mara (having seen the nobility-and-celebrity-studded guest list) had found _infinitely_ amusing. Planned participation by the ever-adorable Solo children had all but guaranteed the event's success. It really _wasn't_ Solo's fault that a highly contagious plague had broken out on Ryloth just before he and the kids left the planet. Nor was it exactly Leia's fault that she wasn't to be allowed within a parsec of a kitchen for anything other than pouring drinks… unless smoky, destructive sabotage of any and all cooking appliances was the intended goal.

Regardless of fault, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker had precipitously become the only person capable of hosting the high-stakes, much-coveted, long-sold-out workshop.

Except for her.

A chime went off on Luke's side of the comm and his hand disappeared off the holo as he reached outside the lens' range. “Skywalker.”

“Master, you need to leave if you're to reach your next engagement on time,” Tionne's apologetic, disembodied voice wafted across the comm.

“Coming, thank you.”

On Kuat, Mara cursed inwardly and did some rapid mental math. Double-checking her results, she resigned herself to her fate. “Send me your authorization code and put Artoo on. I'll take care of it.”

Luke beamed at her, and Jade thought she could almost feel his relief and gratitude across the light years between them. “Thank you, Mara. I'll owe you one.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I stopped keeping track of how much you owed me years ago, Farmboy. Now get lost and give me Artoo.”

\- -

“Problem?” Talon asked, finding her outside the Assembly Hall when the Trade Commission broke for lunch.

Mara glanced around, making sure they were far enough out of the flow of beings not to be overheard. “Skywalker-Solo crisis. I need to go to Coruscant.”

Karrde frowned. “How bad?”

“No dark-siders or insane Jedi for once,” Mara reassured him. “But it still has the potential to get nasty in a hurry.” She gave him the thirty-second summary, then waited silently while he evaluated the variables.

“Go,” he decided, at last. “Organa-Solo is an ally we need to support. But get back as soon as the workshop is over – I'm going to need you here.” His expression turned grave. “Be careful, Mara.”

“Always,” she promised, firmly. Neither of them had any illusions about how vitriolic the Alderaanian population could be when it came to ex-Imperials, particularly during their annual Commemoration Week. She wouldn't be taking any unnecessary chances.

\- -

The newly opened industrial kitchen at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant was immaculate. Stainless steel gleamed, pre-heated ovens wafted heat, and the rich smells of butter, sugar, and fermenting yeast swirled upward toward the high, domed ceiling, perfuming the air. Ceremonial-grade spoons and bowls, each etched with a relief of T'iil seed cakes and the date, were laid out in precise rows around the long work tables. Each participant's spot had been costly, and the care with which their supplies and materials had been laid out reflected a deep awareness of that.

“You are certain everything is in order, Master Skywalker?” Duke Menethe Frayne scowled fiercely at the Jedi. “With Captain Solo's last-minute removal...”

“Everything is perfectly in place to my _very_ exacting specifications, your Honor,” a lilting voice – smooth as satin – interrupted.

Both men turned to face the newcomer.

Frayne took in the petite brown-eyed woman in front of him and promptly forgot to be worried about the workshop. Hair the color of honey was pinned up in an elegant twist over a fetching smile, dark-rimmed glasses, and flawless skin. The deep vee of her silky blouse just barely stayed within the lines of professionalism, and a soft, clingy skirt accentuated her trim figure. Impossibly high heels (the kind Luke was sure he'd heard Hobbie refer to once as 'kriff me shoes') lengthened her legs enticingly.

“And you are, my dear?” The Duke reached for her, suddenly all suave and charm. The newcomer willingly supplied her perfectly manicured hand, smiling sweetly.

“Tassi Colay,” Mara replied, just a hint of crisp Coruscanti accent on her words. “Master Skywalker's personal assistant for this event.”

One of the Duke's perfectly shaped white eyebrows raised with intrigue, even as his lips brushed across the back of Colay's hand, lingering noticeably more than was appropriate. “A Jedi?”

Tassi laughed, a vibrant, bubbly sound. “Oh goodness, no, your Honor! Just a humble pastry chef specializing in Alderaanian cuisine. If you don't mind my saying so, Sir, it's an absolute _honor_ to meet you. Your work in the reclamation of Alderaan's planetary treasures from those thieving ex-Imperials is positively _inspiring_.”

Luke did _not_ like the glint in Frayne's green eyes as the man re-examined Mara, greedy gaze running head to toe yet again in an appreciative (and decidedly unchaste) assessment. The Jedi tamped down the irritation and let his very real relief bleed into his voice.

“Tassi, I've been waiting for you. Will you excuse us a moment, your Honor? We have last minute details to review.”

Mara shot the Duke an apologetic smile as she stepped away, letting Luke take her elbow and lead her into the small square office near the back of the kitchens that would (hopefully) someday belong to the individual assigned to manage provisioning and cooking for the Temple. Yanking down the narrow blinds that covered the windows that opened onto the kitchen, he rounded on Mara.

“Thank the Force you're here. I was starting to think you weren't going to make it!”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I've been on the comm with Artoo and Tionne half the morning – didn't they tell you? I've double checked everything, and we're fine. All you have to do is re-open the training bond, in case you need direction mid-stream.”

“You're going to help me teach in _that_?”

Mara glanced down at herself, then back at him. “Is that a problem?”

 _Only if I'm supposed to concentrate,_ Luke thought. Aloud, he hedged, “It's not exactly what I expected when you said you were going to pose as a pastry chef.”

“I was working with what I had,” Mara informed him impatiently. “The _Fire_ is in for refit, and the _Wild Karrde_ and _Starry Ice_ are out on assignment. Karrde let me take the shuttle from the _Sudden Demise_ to get here, but I hadn't exactly planned to be undercover this trip, so options were limited.”

Luke eyed her incredulously. “You just happened to have that along?”

“Yes. For the Trade Summit.”

“What part of the Trade Summit exactly did you plan to wear it for?”

The question earned him a vexed eye roll. “That's not relevant, Skywalker. Would you hurry up and re-ignite the training bond? The participants are coming.”

Luke was pretty sure it _was_ relevant, given how hard he was going to have to work to pretend the way the outfit snugged around Mara's curves wasn't incredibly distracting – especially with the added connection they'd have once he re-opened the training bond they used when she was on Coruscant and free to train. But there really wasn't time to get into it – he could feel their students moving en masse from the last Commemoration Week event toward the Temple kitchen as they spoke.

“Right, of course.”

Mara smoothed her skirt out of habit – the thing really was more for show than practical wear – and took a deep breath, centering herself for the task to come. Then she opened herself more fully to the Force to ease the re-opening of the training bond. When she didn't immediately feel it spring into place, she glanced at Luke.

His gaze was fixed on her face with an unusually intense expression, and something flickered across his Force sense before he shut it down – something that almost felt like _possessiveness._

A thrill shot through her, and Mara quickly stuffed it behind rock-solid shields. She had to have imagined it – she was sure she had. Even if she somehow hadn't, now was _not_ the time.

Apparently oblivious to her emotional jolt, Luke reached out, his fingers grazing faintly down the center of her forehead. Mara yelped as an invisible spark arced from his fingers into her mind like a lightening strike, burrowing through her head and branching out to sear it's way down into her chest before it evaporated, leaving behind only a vague tingling. Skywalker jerked back, too, as if burned and stared at her. Mara could feel his confusion and consternation as clearly as her own.

“What was that?” She demanded. “That is _not_ what that usually feels like.”

“I don't know,” Luke stammered, confused, his eyes unfocusing slightly as he examined the link between them. “I did the same thing I usually do, but that's not what it's supposed to look like.”

“Shavit! Well, there isn't time to figure it out now. Unless it's hurting you?”

“No,” Luke pulled back from his investigation of the link to focus on her again. “You?”

“No,” Mara replied, firmly. “So we can sort it out later. Back on task, for now. Remember, it doesn't matter how famous these people are or how much they paid – they all worship you just like your Jedi students, all right? You look calm, sound collected, and they'll believe anything you say. If you need any refreshers or technical questions answered, either hand it off to me or I'll feed you the information over our bond.”

Luke grimaced at the idea of being worshiped, but took her point and nodded. “Ready when you are.”

\- -

“Show me again how to hold the sifter, Master Skywalker?” Baroness Cesorst leaned into Luke's chest, tipped her head up, and batted her eyelashes.

The Jedi took a careful step back, trying discretely to put a little space between himself and his pupil. Reminding himself that patience was a virtue and that the success of this class was terribly important, Luke tapped into his best neutral instructor's tone and politely said, “just like this.” For the fifth time, he wrapped his hands around the woman's bejeweled fingers and readjusted her hold on the small wire utensil.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, her voice much lower and more sensual than the situation called for. Luke felt a dart of alarm when she slid the fingers of her free hand over his, slow and intentionally. “You do have such _masterful_ hands, Master Skywalker.”

There was a twitch across the training bond, and – for a split second before Mara snuffed it out of sight – Luke caught the distinct image of the bowl of batter in front of them violently exploding in an obnoxious, goopy mess all over the Baroness's lavishly expensive gown and flawlessly painted face. He made the mistake of grinning, and the noblewoman at his side took it as encouragement, darting sideways to press a daring kiss to his cheek.

Luke started and quickly released her hand, stepping back with a blush. “Ah, I think you've got it now, my Lady.”

“Yes,” she giggled. “I think I do.”

Luke ignored the quiet mirth ringing through the Force from his Jedi padawans, who were circulating the room working as runners and cleanup support. He was far more interested in the simmering undercurrent of pique running along the edge of his bond with Mara. That was new… and not at all unwelcome.

After providing soft direction and encouragement to a few other participants, Luke risked a glance at 'Tassi' – and it was promptly his turn to stiffen and squash a torrent of irritation. Duke Frayne was pointing to his bowl with studious solemnity, soliciting Mara's opinion on some aspect of his technique. His other hand rested pruriently low on the small of her back.

“Master Skywalker?” Luke turned, shifting his expression back to pleasant calm as he listened to and answered an actually intelligent question from an Alderaanian artisan about the type of yeast in the seed cake batter. His attention remained split, half focused on the job, the other half distinctly preoccupied with the Duke's increasing forwardness with Tassi as the class went on.

Luke and Mara had always made an exquisite team, and the workshop was no exception. For a solid four hours, they easily traded off the work of instructing, overseeing, correcting, and praising their students. By the end, the Temple's kitchen all but sang in the Force with the delight of achievement, the bittersweet joy of old memories, and the pure enjoyment of crisp sugar on ready tongues. It was a heady and satisfying mix… but not quite enough to completely hide the steady rivulet of tension building up along the bond between them.

When Tionne finally reluctantly interrupted the participants' excited chatter and indulgent licking of lips and fingertips to remind them that it was time to move on or they'd be late for the evening assembly, Luke found himself caught in the flow of people and emotion. Inundated on all sides by praise and gratitude, he would have missed Mara's voice on the edge of his awareness had he not been prompted to seek it out by the exigency in her Force presence.

“Artoo, contact flight control for me, will you? I need clearance to leave as soon as there's an open slot. Use Skywalker's authorization code if you need to.”

Artoo chirped acknowledgment and rolled off to plug into the nearest comm console. Luke caught Tionne's eye and tipped his head, indicating that she should take his place among the well-wishing crowd, then disengaged himself to follow Mara.

She'd made it out of the kitchen and halfway down the hall before he caught her, his hand gripping her upper arm and pulling her around in a move anyone else would have been suicidal to try.

“You're leaving?”

Aware of the others trickling through the hall on their way to and from Temple and Commemoration-related duties, Mara maintained her cover. “I have other engagements, Master Skywalker,” she reminded him in a prim but deferential tone.

“A word before you go? Privately?”

There was no way to refuse without causing a scene, so Mara acquiesced. Taking a firm grip on her hand, Luke ducked down a side corridor. A few turns later they were in an unfinished section of the Temple's renovations. Pushing aside the sheeting that protected one of the doors from renovation dust, Luke punched his private code into the key panel and led Mara into the polished circular room that would one day serve as the Council's meeting room.

Like the original it was modeled after, it featured low, wide, well-padded round chairs arranged in a half circle. Sunlight slanted through the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows to their left, reflecting off warmly hued marble to give the entire space a serene sort of glow.

Mara ignored all of it, anxious to get out of the Temple and off the planet. Away from the shamelessly flirtatious Baroness and the absurdly touchy-feelly Duke. Away from the grief-and-revenge-heavy atmosphere that had permeated Coruscant since she set down in the shuttle that morning; it chafed against her Force sense like grit paper, an endless irritation just under the surface. She didn't begrudge the Alderaanians their anger or coping mechanisms, but she'd had enough of the galling reminders that – no matter what she did, how hard she tried – she would never escape being judged by her Imperial past.

The door had barely closed behind them when she asked brusquely, “You needed something?”

Luke turned on his heel and pinned her to the wall beside the door, his body hard and unyielding against the length of hers. His left hand buried itself in the twist of her hair, dislodging the pins and tipping her head back an instant before his mouth captured hers. His right hand found it's way high on her ribs, holding her in place.

The wall at her back was cold; at her front, Luke was all heat and want, her body tingling with vivid awareness everywhere they touched. The kiss was hard and hungry, and Mara gasped against the completely unexpected siege on her senses. Luke took advantage of her parted lips to sweep his tongue through her mouth, moaning softly at his first taste of her. Mara arched against him instinctively when his lips eventually released hers to trail kisses across her jaw and down her throat.

“Farmboy,” she demanded breathlessly, a traitorous shiver running through her when he nipped at her exposed collarbone. “What are you -?”

“I thought I was going to Force Choke Frayne if he touched you one more time,” he rasped against her skin.

“What?” Mara struggled to catch up, her thoughts mortifyingly addled by the cacophony of emotions rattling between them and the raw desire that seemed to transude directly from the Jedi into her, leaving her flushed and needy.

Still tasting his way along her clavicle, Luke shifted the hand against her chest just enough to skim his thumb tantalizingly over her breast. The thin, satiny fabric of her top and barely-there lace of her bra did nothing to hide the way her nipple instantly pearled under the attention.

“Skywalker -.” Mara squawked in protest, but the effect was completely negated by the way her hands darted up to cling to his shoulders in a vain effort to steady herself. It should have been far too simple, too delicate a touch to be inflicting such damage on her usually impeccable control, but the single-minded intent behind it went straight to her head.

“I felt you,” Luke hissed in her ear, shifting his weight so she could feel him already hard against her hip. “Every time the Baroness batted those ridiculous fake eyelashes at me – you were _jealous_ , Mara.”

“Mmph!” Jade tried for indignation, but all that came out was strangled desire as Luke, gratified by the effect his thumb had been having, smugly pressed his advantage. Edging his fingers inside the deeply cut neckline of her top, he nudged the filmy lace of her bra aside and caught the peaked nipple, rolling it skillfully between his fingers.

“I – was not!” Mara managed, finally, her breath coming faster and more uneven. She bit back whimper of pleasure when his gentle pinch of her rosy peak sent a shock of wet heat straight to her core. She fought to regain some measure of focus, gasping out, “Not – jealous. Annoyed. Supposed to be teaching!”

Luke's skeptical amusement was obvious over their bond, but he didn't reply – he was far too busy being fascinated by hitch in her breathing he was able to cause when he fluttered teasing, feather-light kisses over the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

“I wasn't,” she insisted, more plaintively now, as his fingers found their way to the other breast to continue their sweet torment. Mara couldn't stifle the indelicate mewl clawing its way out of her this time, and dug her fingers harder into Luke's shoulders, squirming against him as the ache at her center clamored for her to give in. To stop thinking about all the reasons she shouldn't – mustn't – let him do this and just beg to be kriffed already.

She stubbornly made one last pathetic attempt to pretend that she wasn't wholly lost to him. “It was just… about the cake…”

Luke pulled back abruptly to look at her, skin flushed and eyes bright, and she wanted to weep at the agonizingly bereft feeling that seized her when his lips ripped themselves off her skin.

“No it wasn't,” he contended, flatly. “You didn't leave a multimillion credit deal for cake. I didn't want to strangle a Duke over _cake_. Why are we still trying to pretend this isn't so much more, Mara?”

“We can't.”

Mara's voice was a strained whisper, and the bitter sorrow that lanced through her caught Luke completely off guard. Startled, he disentangled his hand from her now loose hair and slid it down to cradle her cheek.

“Why not?” he asked gently, brow furrowing in perplexity.

His palm was warm, the touch tender, and Mara wanted nothing more than to lean into it – into _him –_ and let this happen. But that was the road to ruin, even if he didn't care to see it. She met his gaze, regretful and apologetic, and told what should have been painfully obvious.

“I would be _so bad_ for you, Farmboy.”

The azure eyes locked on hers went heavy-lidded with the desire that spiked through him and swelled across the bond between them, and his voice dropped to something low and deeply sensual.

“Promise?”

Mara's eyes widened with shock, then narrowed in fury and she half-released her grip on him to smack his shoulder sharply. “Skywalker! I'm serious!”

“So am I,” he assured her.

He started to slide his hand down her throat, back to her chest, to the impossibly distracting and wonderful things he'd been doing, but Mara shoved him off, irate, and ducked away. Humiliation gnawed at her, though whether it was from her own lack of control or Skywalker's instant dismissal of her hard-fought attempt to protect him she couldn't tell yet. Getting out of his reach, she folded her arms defensively across her chest, ignoring the way her top still gaped open, and lifting her chin defiantly.

“I don't know what the hell has gotten into your head, but this isn't going to happen.” She hid the crippling heartsickness that statement cost her under a vicious glare. “Just turn off the damn bond so I can go.”

“Why?” Luke entreated, turning to face her, hands fisting at his sides. “You can't tell me you don't want it – I can _feel_ you, Mara. You want it as much as I do – so much it hurts. Why won't you let this happen?”

She looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. “You want an itemized list?” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Your reputation. Your sister's reputation – and political career. Your Temple. Your students. My job. My history.” Mara tried and failed to keep the despair threatening to drown her from washing across their open bond. “Just _me,_ Luke. I cannot possibly be good for you.”

Something sparked in his eyes and shifted in the space between them. That mesmerizing intent was back, and Mara caught her breath as his gaze locked on her rapaciously, rooting her in place as he very purposefully crossed the few steps that separated them.

“I don't need you to be good for me,” he told her, each word clear and precise in a way that made her shudder.

Mara stayed very still as Luke slid his arms around her waist, finding the hidden fastener of the skirt and unhooking it.

“In fact, I'd be extremely happy if you wanted to be very, very bad for me.”

Mara's body turned to liquid heat and she gave a quiet moan as the skirt slipped to the floor. Luke slid to his knees in front of her, then looked up, lips quirking as he fingered the matching garter holsters on each thigh.

“A blaster _and_ a vibroblade, Jade?”

“Alderaanians,” she reminded him, her hips hitching and her hands darting out to his shoulders for balance as his hands resumed their trek upward to brush against the soaked lace between her legs. “Don't like me, remember?” She gasped and ground against his hand before smirkly pertly, “besides, they went with the outfit.

Luke couldn't _wait_ to see what else went with her outfits. Snagging the edge of her panties, he snapped them, tugging the lace aside and tossing it to the floor.

“Hey! Those were – ahh!”

Mara yelped and wobbled, tightening her grip on him as Luke darted a single finger into the wet heat between her legs. The Jedi grinned as he felt her inner muscles clamp down around him and her thoughts derail entirely.

Mara bucked against his hand, insistent for more; Luke withdrew his finger instead, earning an angry growl. Rising quickly, he snagged one arm around Mara's waist and tugged at the fastener of his belt with the other.

A moment later, he had her back against the wall and was kissing her fiercely, as if he could brand the taste of himself on her lips. One hand was back between her legs, stroking, thrusting, teasing. Twining her fingers in his hair, Mara relinquished herself to pleasure, rocking her hips in time with his touch, spiraling hard and fast toward her release.

Luke reveled in the soft, needy noises Mara made against his mouth. Savored the way she tasted, and relished the slickness that coated his fingers copiously as his fingers worked magic on her willing form.

When he could ignore his own burning, throbbing need no longer, he pulled away, watching her eyes dilate in lust as he sucked her stickiness off his fingers. He took his time, enjoying the sight her her, disheveled and wanton in his arms.

“Take the contacts out Mara. I want to see _you_ when I kriff you.”

Mara wasn't usually one to take orders, but she didn't hesitate to obey this time. Tipping her head forward, she quickly removed and discarded the lenses. When her eyes came back up to his, they were the brilliant green he knew and loved.

“That's better.” Sliding his fingers up her thighs, past the holsters she still wore, Luke curved his hands under her ass and boosted her up. Using the Force to augment his hold, he slid his hot, hard length along her slit, teasing and coating himself with her moisture, before he pressed just the tip of himself inside her.

“ _Please,_ ” Mara breathed, shifting restlessly, trying to take more of him.

In one smooth thrust, Luke buried himself inside her to the hilt. Mara's scream set his blood afire, and there was no speaking, or even coherent thinking, between them after that. Only lust and pleasure, desire and sensation almost too sweet to be borne, crashing over and through them both as he pounded her into the wall.

Mara was drunk on the feel of her Jedi inside her. The erotic slap of skin on skin, the heady scent of their combined arousal, the intoxicating friction as he slammed into her again and again, the intentional grind of his body against her swollen clit with each thrust.

She could feel him spiraling out of control with her, dizzy with the slide of her sinfully tight heat swallowing him, over and over. The scent of her hair and her faint kiss of her perfume as he buried his face in her neck and gulped ragged, gasping breaths.

Knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer, Luke eased his pace just slightly and shifted his position to free a hand. Then he pushed his thumb into Mara's mouth, clamping down hard on his control when she greedily sucked on it, making small slurping noises around her panting breaths. Dragging it from her lips with a pop, he burrowed it between her legs, just above where he was buried inside her. Mara let out a sharp cry as he found what he was looking for and stroked the wet digit firmly against her clit in time with his thrusts.

Mara's entire body went taut, every muscle contracting and a keening wail wrenching from her throat as her climax ripped through her. Her tight sheath clamping down around him catapulted Luke into his own release, and he emptied himself inside her with a guttural shout. Wrecked by the force of their releases, they found that the wall wasn't enough to keep them upright. Luke let his knees give out in a semi-controlled collapse, and they slid down the wall, ending up in a tangled heap on the floor, Luke kneeling, slumped forward into Mara's utterly bonelessly limp body.

\- -

Luke returned to reality slowly, whited-out vision fading back in gradually as he came back to himself.

Every muscle was languid and molten, and his arms were sluggish to respond when he lifted a hand to stroke Mara's tousled hair. She was still slumped against his chest, arms around his neck, her face buried against his neck. Lingering tremors quivered through her as his other hand came to rest on her thigh, his thumb stroking the soft skin there gently.

“Still with me, Jade?” His voice was rough and low.

She nodded, just a small movement against his skin. After a moment, she lifted her head, pushed herself upright, and then slid unsteadily to the side. “I have to go.”

Luke blinked, then squinted at her, dumbly. “What?”

“I have to go,” she repeated, automatically. Looking down at herself, she appeared to calculate the damage to her appearance and started triaging, refastening her bra and starting the buttons on her shirt.

“You can't.” Luke shifted his weight, grimacing as he realized he was sitting (extremely uncomfortably) on the pants bunched around his ankles. Shifting himself, he started righting his own clothing.

“Talon is waiting for me.” Mara pressed a hand to the wall as she staggered upright on those ludicrously high heels, then moved – control progressively returning as her body recovered from its high - to reclaim and don her skirt. She balled up the discarded panties in one hand. “And you're supposed to be at the Assembly. I've made you late.”

Having sorted out his clothing and found his way to his feet, Luke stepped forward and caught Mara's free hand. “Mara.”

She looked up at him, desperate _want_ warring with painfully deep concern edged in fear in her Force sense. “What are we doing, Luke?”

He smiled at her use of his proper name and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her reassuringly. “Just acknowledging what we've been trying to ignore for a long time, Sweetheart.”

“What about your reputation? Your Jedi? I don't -.”

Luke cut her off with a kiss that was both tender and firm. “We don't have to have it all figured out now,” he told her. “We can work it out as we go.” He gave her a wry smile. “That's how relationships work, you know.”

“How would I know that?” she shot back, fresh anxiety surfacing. “I've never…” she struggled with the confession. “I've never done this before, Farmboy. Not for real – only ever as a cover for a mission. That's not a great start for a relationship.”

“And my track record is any better?” Luke reminded her, self-deprecatingly. He felt her twinge of chagrined concession at that. Sighing, he cupped her cheek and made her look up at him again. “I don't want to ignore this any more, Jade. I know you have to go, but promise you'll come back when you're done with the Trade Negotiations, and give us a chance.”

She searched his face for a moment, then the edges of her lips quirked in a small smile. “A chance for me to be very, very bad for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Luke laughed and leaned down to kiss her thoroughly. “I'm going to think of kriffing you against this wall every time there's a Jedi Council meeting in here, you know.”

Mara grinned. She was all right with that. “Hmm, well, that's not all that naughty by most galactic standards,” she pretend-mused. “I'll have to see if I can do better next time.”

Luke's presence in the Force lit up with the promise of a 'next time', and Mara rolled her eyes in affectionate amusement. “Think you can conjure a Force illusion if anyone gets close enough to see my eyes between here and the ship?”

It was a completely unnecessary request, but Luke saw the veiled invitation to walk her to her shuttle and took it. “I should be able to manage.”

Keying the door open, he motioned for her to exit first. As she passed, he snagged the ruined panties from her and tucked them into his pocket. Mara raised a questioning eyebrow, but Luke just smiled innocently and caught her hand, leading the way towards the Temple's service exit.

\- -

“What _do_ you wear this outfit for at the negotiations?” Luke asked as they entered the docking bay where her shuttle was already humming to life compliments of Karrde's VeeOne droid.

“It's a litmus test for potential clients,” Mara told him as they waited for an opening and crossed the busy corridor. “Anyone who's done their homework at all will know that Talon treats his people well. People who are really good will know he's got a female second-in-command, along with my general specs. If we show up and the client treats me like an object, they get scratched off the list – Karrde doesn't need that, and he can't afford it as much these days, given the recent shifts in his client base.”

“You mean now that he's gone semi-legit,” Luke teased, affectionately.

Mara shot him a reproving look for even suggesting such a thing, but continued. “If they treat me decently, they make the possibilities list. Anybody who figures out who I am gets bumped to the 'really promising' list. It's crude, but effective.”

“Is it just you, or does Faughn do it, too?” Luke asked curiously, trying unsuccessfully to picture the pilot in heels.

Mara laughed and shook her head. “She claims they're a hazard to her health. Won't go near them.” They'd reached the shuttle, so she leaned closer and murmured suggestively, “I, on the other hand, can do just about _anything_ in them.”

“Tease,” he accused, squeezing her hand, his eyes bright and shining at her as they stopped at the base of the shuttle's ramp.

Mara's glance darted around, looking for observers, before she turned her serious gaze back to him. “You can't tell anyone, Skywalker – not yet. Not yet, at least,” she compromised hastily when she saw the look on his face. “I need space to figure this out on our own, before all hell breaks loose. Please.”

Luke felt a wave of compassion at the genuine apprehension radiating from her. He slid his hands up her arms, pulling her closer and nuzzling her temple with his lips. “You want to be my dirty little secret, Mara? He asked playfully, voice husky. “How can I say no to that?”

Mara shivered, fresh desire rippling between them, then she pushed back and smacked his chest with her palm. “Stop it! Or you're going to make _me_ late!” Her tone was scolding, but her eyes sparkled with mischief and Luke felt the cool relief wash away her anxiety, at least for the moment.

“I wouldn't dare.” He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her one more time, tender and promising.

“Come back soon, Jade.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next installment = promised sugar coated playtime on Luke's kitchen table. *wink*


End file.
